


Albatross - Ep. 1 - Halcyon Dawn

by Apartment41



Category: Albatross - Fandom
Genre: Engineering, F/F, Outer Space, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Space Opera
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-07 15:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17368184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apartment41/pseuds/Apartment41
Summary: Kunai is an orphaned woman on a backwater world that's on the brink of anarchy.  She survives as a starship mechanic, patching up any wayward vessel that sails into port.  With no family and no money, she'll be lucky to do it for the rest of her life.  Until the NSS Albatross arrives in desperate need of her services.  Its Spacer crew and charming Captain bring the promise of a new life.  Kunai just has to be bold enough to seize it.





	1. Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter of the Albatross series. Expect regular updates.

The apartment door burst open, and Kunai was thrown into the midnight rain. She sailed over the marble steps and crashed onto the landing pad. Cold, heavy drops pelted against her, washing away the blood draining from her hands and face. The knuckle marks on her cheeks were already turning purple.

Kunai clutched her ribs and winced as pain lanced through her. She prayed they weren’t broken and rolled onto her side, anger blocking out the worst of her agony.

“We had a deal!” she shouted towards the man in the doorway. Silhouetted by the lights inside the apartment, Kunai could only see that he was tall, broad, and muscular. Too perfect to be fully human. A cyborg. A _combat_ cyborg.

The cyborg stepped aside. Even over the pelting of the rain, Kunai could hear laughter coming from inside the apartment. Another man stepped through the doorway, this one noticeably more human, with silver hair and a shiny new bruise on his cheek.

“Come again?” he called.

Kunai planted a hand on the ground, ignoring her sliced palms and broken knuckles. She’d continue this argument on her feet, not lying in a puddle. She stopped when a soft _click_ reached her ears. She looked at the cyborg, and froze when she saw the blaster in his hand.

Her courage died in her throat. It was all she could do to whimper, “We had a deal.”

And again, the man laughed.

“So what?” he shouted.

Kunai grimaced. It was a flippant question, but the logic hit home like a bolt from the cyborg’s blaster. _So what if we had a deal?_ The injustice of it burned through her.

The man laughed again. “We never signed a contract! And even if we did – who would care? Who are you, huh?”

Kunai scowled at the man. At the man and at herself. He was right. There was no contract, nothing that bound them together. And she had no protection, no one coming to her aid. He had all the protection high birth and endless money could buy. He was right about it all, and she was stupid to think it ever could have been different. But her anger remained. _We had a deal!_

“Have you got people with you, huh?” The man called. Kunai curled her unbroken fingers into a fist, but she couldn’t meet the man’s gaze. Instinct kept her head bowed. “I could kill you right now and no one would care.”

She lifted her head ever so slightly, her eyes widening in fear. She was too scared to look at the cyborg. As if he’d shoot her for glancing his way. She could tell the blaster was still in his hands though. No chance he would miss. She’d be dead before she could scream.

The man shrugged. “Wouldn’t even be hard. Clean up would be easy – because of the rain.”

Desperate, Kunai looked around her, but all she found was a bare landing pad and a luxury apartment. Even the city had disappeared, consumed by the clouds around them. Not a single light broke through. They were alone. She was abandoned.

“I should have you killed, as an example. For this,” he said with a ginger touch of his cheek.

Kunai almost smiled at the irony. She’d signed her own death warrant with a cocked fist and four broken knuckles.

Instead she bowed her head, just like she’d been trained, and let the rain fall against her. It bounced off her jacket, soaked through her jumpsuit, through her tool bag, through her boots, though her hair, her gloves, her very skin.

The rain was almost freezing. There had been a cold snap the day before, and snow was piled against the edges of the landing pad. She started shivering. Her heart pumped in her ears. She tucked her head lower and bit her lip, begging her body to stop. But it was no use. It wasn’t her fault. She was freezing, and she couldn’t change that. The rain kept coming.

She could hear it too. The raindrops were fat, and hit the landing pad like bombs against a target. Most of the runoff spilled off the side of the pad. Then it fell another hundred stories down to the surface. But some formed puddles around her. The water beat against it like fists on a drum.

Winter on planet Halcyon. Snow or rain. Step out your door and hear a crunch or a splash. She preferred it that way. In the summer it was just hot. Hot, hot, hot. Hot in her sleeping pod – a capsule barely bigger than her – hot on the train, hot on the elevator, just _hot_. Nothing to break up the heat, except the shade. But in the winter, at least things could get interesting.

She loved the noise of the rain most of all. She loved it even now.

It filled her ears until she could barely make out the man’s words.

“You’re not even worth the bribe it’d take.”

With a final glare, he turned on his heel and walked back into the apartment. His cyborg waited until his master was safe before he holstered his blaster, walked inside, and shut the door.

Kunai was alone now, with only the rain to keep her company. She waited a few moments before moving. She wanted things still before she stirred them.

Still grimacing, she propped herself up on one hand and stood. Everything ached. Her palms and face were bleeding, and her ribs felt like they were on fire. She tried taking a step and nearly collapsed from the pain.

For a moment, she thought about sitting down and taking stock. If she turned her heated jacket on she could stay warm until the battery ran out. She wouldn’t wait long, only until the bleeding stopped. A few minutes at the most.

But if the man saw her, she was done for. He’d call her a vagrant, or a trespasser. Killing her would be justified. He wouldn’t even have to compensate the Company for a lost asset. And she still had to get home before curfew. Or then she’d really be in trouble.

Kunai grimaced. At least if she was dead her problems would be over.

She tried walking, but soon resorted to shambling. Her left leg dragged behind her, and cried out in agony. She ignored it with practiced ease. She had to get away from this place, and to home. No one knew she was here, and no help was coming for her.

It was a short walk to the elevator at the far end of the pad, but the pain made it seem longer. As she walked, she felt grateful for the downpour.

No one would notice her cry in the rain.


	2. It's Five O'Clock - Get Up

“It’s five o’ clock! Time to wake up!”

Kunai opened her eyes to see a clock projected centimeters above her face. It read **0500** in big red letters. A claxon followed shortly after, filling her sleeping pod with noise. Kunai groped for the pod’s release catch. With one quick jerk of the handle, she cracked open the pod’s cover, erasing the clock and silencing the noise.

Kunai let out a long, exasperated sigh. Five o’ clock. Time to wake up.

Her body still ached. She’d gotten back to the Company warehouse minutes before curfew, and climbed into her pod with her clothes still on. A second later and the pod would have slammed shut without her. She would have no choice but to sleep on the ground. Again.

She’d stripped her clothes off in the pod’s cramped space and infinite darkness, a difficult task. Her clothes had stuck to her cold skin, and the knuckles of her right hand had turned purple and swollen. Once off, she kicked her clothes to the foot of the pod and curled up under her single sheet as best she could. She was asleep the moment she closed her eyes.

But five hours rest hadn’t been enough. Her body still ached and her mind dragged. Her very soul felt heavy. But there was nothing she could do. On a normal day they’d beat her for sleeping in. And if she kept the pod cracked instead of fully open any longer, her alarm blast again. Except louder.

Resigned to her fate, Kunai rolled the pod’s door open, exposing her to the outside world. The heat from her body fled from the pod’s tight quarters, and cold air rushed to replace it. Kunai shivered. Snow and ice had replaced the night’s rain.

What she focused on wasn’t the cold, but the noise. Even before she leaned up and could see over the pod’s rim, she already knew the warehouse was alive with activity. She could hear foremen shouting. Metal scraping against concrete. The grind of heavy machinery. Underneath it all was the occasional wail and cry of a worker.

Kunai closed her eyes and tried to shut it all out.

_It’s just another day,_ she told herself. But in the pit of her stomach she knew it wasn’t true. A normal day was almost silent as the warehouse woke up, assembled, and boarded the trains to the space elevator. There was no need to talk because there was nothing to talk about. It was just another day. This was not just another day.

_Bang, bang, BANG!_ A foreman struck his baton against Kunai’s sleeping stack.

“Get it moving! It’s the Upgrade! You’ve all known this was coming! Get a move on!” Klein shouted from below.

Kunai winced. Of course it was Klein. 5AM on the dot and he comes skulking by her stack to get her up. It had to be him. _It had to be._

She stayed in her pod. A mischievous idea had entered her mind. This was the day, perhaps the first day in years, where she could sleep in. Klein would eventually make her get up, but he probably wouldn’t beat her. _Yeah,_ Kunai thought. Today she had the power. Today she was valuable.

_Bang, bang, bang!_

The strikes were further away this time, another stack somewhere down the line. But even so they dashed Kunai’s thought of sleeping in. She wouldn’t risk everything she’d earned for a few measly minutes of sleep.

Resigned to her fate, she heaved a massive sigh, and sat up in her bed.

She reached down for her jumpsuit and found it soaked and cold. She slithered into it, her skin going clammy everywhere it touched fabric. Each movement was agony. She almost screamed when she bumped a rib up against the pod’s wall. Her right hand wasn’t any help. The swelling had only gotten worse. She could barely curl her fingers.

Once she’d wrestled her jumpsuit on, she laid back and took a moment to rest. Her skin crawled under the wet fabric, and every part of her body hurt. But she had to go on. They’d start the countdown soon. If she didn’t hurry she wouldn’t have time to use the bathroom, and the pain in her bladder was as bad as the pain everywhere else.

She sat up and pulled on her socks and boots, also soaked. Finally, she pulled on her jacket.  The inside was mercifully dry. She checked the jacket’s battery capacity on the sleeve readout, then set its temperature to medium. Almost immediately, sweet relief flowed through her. She smiled and shivered at the warmth. She’d be dry in a half hour. She gave the sleeve an appreciative stroke, and thanked her lucky stars she was the jacket’s rightful owner. Fair and square.

Kunai took one last moment to make her hair. Pulling a red ribbon from her pocket, she collected her black hair in one hand and tied it into a short ponytail. Like many workers around her, she kept her hair long on the top, and shaved almost to the scalp on the sides. With Company barbers charging by the centimeter, it was the most cost effective style.

Her hair tied, she pulled on her gloves. The left one came on easily, but pulling on the right glove was excruciating. She could feel the knuckles grind with each tug. Once the job was finished and the wrist fastener secured, Kunai flexed her fingers. Nothing had changed. But with her gloves on, none of the foreman would know there was a problem. She could still work.

That was the most important thing.

Finished, Kunai swung her legs over the pod’s wall and mounted the ladder. She was fortunate to have the top pod in her five-pod stack. She didn’t have to worry about anyone else descending on top of her.

Just as she’d been instructed for two weeks, Kunai opened the small drawer underneath her pod and retrieved her Company provided sack. It had been with her almost half her life. She’d already filled it with her possessions in preparation for this day.

One toothbrush, her other jumpsuit, two pairs of socks and undergarments, assorted toiletries, and a set of data cards locked in a reinforced container. Her entire life, stuffed into a sack.

Kunai looped the sack over her shoulder and climbed down the ladder.

She paused when she saw the worker below her was still in his bed, curled up under his sheets, shivering. She didn’t know the man, and he didn’t know her. He’d replaced the pod’s previous occupant less than a week ago, after the Upgrade was announced. They both knew there wasn’t any use in getting to know each other.

Kunai started descending again, but hesitated. She watched the man shiver… except that it wasn’t shivering, she realized. He was crying. Crying so softly she couldn’t hear it, but each new round of grief shook his body. She didn’t know him in the slightest, but her heart tightened with each of his sobs. Her breath caught in her throat, and a nearly alien thought entered her mind. If she could reach out her hand to his shoulder, maybe she could –

_Bang, BANG **BANG!!!**_

“We haven’t got all day! Not even for you, Kunai!”

She scowled. Klein was waiting on her.

Someone else stepped on the ladder beneath Kunai.

“Best do as he says, Kunai. Foremen are running hot today.” Kunai looked down at the person who spoke. Beneath her was the cracked face of Puck. She’d been living in the number three pod for as long as Kunai had been in number five.

Kunai liked Puck, though they didn’t have much in common. At forty-five years old, Puck had a few years on Kunai’s nineteen, and she was nearly three times Kunai’s size. Considering Kunai barely fit into the Company’s smallest jumpsuit though, that wasn’t too surprising. But they were both mechanics, and had spent long hours working in the shipyard together.

Over short meals and the few hours of rest they received each night, Puck shared the stories of her life. How she’d been born on Halcyon to parents who came to the planet expecting a better life, but lived to see their prosperity shrink day by day. By the time their life had become unbearable, it was too late to leave. Puck had been with the Company her entire adult life. She’d been lucky enough to grow up free. She liked telling stories about those days. For a little while, anyway.

Kunai smiled at her. They’d never see each other again.

Her smile turned to a scowl as she once again faced the ladder, and descended the rest of the way to the floor. Everyone else from her stack was already gathered below, standing in the taped-off five meter by five meter Recreation Zone. Kunai remembered the first time she’d seen one of these – dropped off at the warehouse’s front door with a fresh serial number on her jumpsuit. The Company rep who showed her around, who promised everything the Company had to offer while smiling her sickly yellow teeth, said she could have as much fun as she wanted in a Recreation Zone. One taped off five meter by five meter concrete square per stack. What fun.

The four of them now assembled, they made ready for the next phase of the morning. Normally, this would mean everyone venturing to the bathroom, sometimes together, sometimes alone. Kunai preferred together, even though no one talked. She felt safer as part of a group. But today was different.

Their instructions had been clear. Roll your stack over to the far wall and assemble where you’ve been told. Two of Kunai’s stackmates were getting ready to start when Puck pointed towards pod four.

“He’s still in there,” she said.

The workers looked at each other, then at her. One of them, whose name Kunai didn’t know and whose tag was worn so rotten she couldn’t read it hissed back at Puck.

“So what? Leave him.”

Puck only stared. She glanced over at Kunai, who was tugging at her jumpsuit, ignoring the conversation. The four of them looked at each other, none of them willing to make a decisive move. Kunai glanced all around her, her heart starting to beat faster. Other stacks were doing their job and moving swiftly past them. Soon the four of them would be noticed, maybe due to their idleness, maybe because they caused a traffic jam. And if they were noticed, consequences would be swift.

“You four there! What do you think you’re doing?”

That clinched it. Before the foreman could march over and really lash into them, the two workers grabbed hold of the stack again, followed by Puck. Kunai was right behind her, grabbing the farthest corner of the stack. In unison, each of them disengaged the brakes on the wheels located at either corner and began to move the stack towards the far wall.

Straining against the weight of the stack, Kunai rested her head against the cold steel of a support strut. She could feel the man above her squirm in his pod. Silently, she begged for him to stop. They didn’t need any more attention. And she didn’t need to think about what would happen to him after he was caught.

Around her, other crews were working as well. The warehouse had one hundred stacks arranged in a ten by ten grid. Five hundred workers were walking in the same direction at once – towards the steadily growing mass of stacks at the far end of the warehouse.

Kunai looked at some of the worker’s faces as she passed. Most were utterly blank, like this was normal. And perhaps it was for them. Another day, another Upgrade. Another closed warehouse, and another new job. But for some this horror was new. One man was barely pushing his stack. Instead, he leaned against it, and wept silent tears that splattered onto the ground. A woman passed by, her face ashen, and her eyes staring off into the void. She drifted too close to another stack, which ran over her foot. She didn’t seem to notice.

One worker was skulking back from the far wall, his lips curled in anger, but his eyes cast down, away from the foreman. He looked up from the floor only far enough to spy the faces of everyone who passed. As Kunai’s stack rolled past, he look at the two men in the front, then Puck, then Kunai, and just as his eyes were about to move onto the next group, he locked onto the red triangle stitched on her sack – the mark of an Advanced Asset.

Instantly his expression changed from anger to scorn. Kunai looked away and kept walking, urging the stack to roll faster. Terror seized her at the thought of what the man would do next. If he leapt at her from behind, he could pummel her against the concrete floor or the steel bar of the stack before the foreman could pull him off.

She gripped the stack tighter now, and prepared herself for a fight. If she heard him running at her, she’d be ready, even if all she had was a cocked fist. She smirked. Her right hand wouldn’t do her any good, unless she wanted to slap him.

But as the seconds slipped by, rather than running feet, all she heard was shouted curses, and the bark of a foreman ordering him back to work.

Several workers were organizing the stacks into tight rows, then slamming them into one another until they locked into place, forming tightly packed units that were ready to transport. Kunai’s crew handed their stack off, and made no mention of the man still in his bed. Kunai glanced at Puck as they all walked away. She only stared at the ground.

Their task completed, the four walked towards the bathroom stalls, lined in a tremendous row against a warehouse wall. Ten stalls in total to serve five hundred workers. Fortunately, everyone understood that using the toilet in the morning was not a time for reflection or relaxation. They would conduct their business quickly, or they would be removed even more quickly.

The two men from Kunai’s stack filed into the shortest lines they could find, while Kunai lined up behind Puck. She could see a shorter line, but today of all days, Kunai wanted desperately to be around someone. The only person she knew was Puck.

A smile crept onto Kunai’s lips. As the line marched forward, she studied what she could see of Puck. She’d never noticed before, but she had wonderful hair. Cut into the same side-shaved pattern as Kunai, it was light brown, with sprouts of grey forming at the crown of her head. Kunai liked it. It made her look… dignified.

Finally it was Kunai’s turn, and she wasted no time. She strode across the short courtesy space the workers gave by custom, and entered the simple stall. It was difficult to slither out of her jumpsuit, but the pain from her bowels compelled her to shimmy fast. She concluded her business quickly, and was out of the stall in record time.

Puck was waiting for her further down the warehouse wall. Normally they’d line up together and await their train. But they had new orders. So they just stared at each other. Puck standing near the warehouse’s main exit, Kunai fidgeting towards the far wall, and her new life.

Kunai wasn’t sure how long they stared at one another. She was too busy studying Puck. Her gentle face, the tired slope of her shoulders, the arch of her back, and all the way back up, to the soft look in her eyes. She’d never see that look again. Finally, Puck sighed.

“Well, goodbye,” she said with a wave, which Kunai halfheartedly returned.

“Goodbye,” Kunai said softly.

Then Puck walked towards the warehouse exit – one long door that led out onto the train platform – and stepped into one of the lines feeding a mass of workers that obediently waited for departure.

Kunai was half tempted to follow her. She’d been using that exit for years. Muscle memory alone practically begged her to go. But more than that, she very suddenly wanted to be with Puck.

She was the only person in this warehouse that Kunai knew by name. They didn’t spend much time outside the warehouse together, or even much time inside the warehouse together. But those precious moments took on a new color. Splitting meals, treating burns, talking the hours away at night. They even hugged sometimes. But the warmth that welled within her now eclipsed anything she’d felt for Puck before.

Her chest tightened, and a lump formed in her throat. Kunai looked at the mass of workers waiting at the exit. She knew so many of them, but she only knew one of them like she knew Puck, and the thought of being without her was suddenly too much to bear. The rest of them could spin off to the edge of the planet, cast aside by the Company – just leave her Puck.

Kunai took one step forward, a tear welling at her eye, and then another step. She froze for just a moment as she remembered her orders, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t want to go with her assigned group. She took another step, and then another, faster and faster and faster until Klein jabbed her in the stomach with his baton.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Kunai froze, the weight of her mistake bringing her back down to reality. Klein circled in front of her, the tip of his baton still pressed against her stomach. The pain was minor, but the threat was clear. Kunai looked at the ground and hoped he would be quick.

“You don’t go over there anymore, _vacuum_.” He pulled the baton away and gestured towards the opposite wall, where the other workers, those who weren’t destined to leave by the main exit, had gathered.

Kunai slowly met his eyes, but kept her head tilted down. He was so close she could feel the heat from his breath, and smell his stink. He twisted his pig face into a mocking grin and gestured towards the opposite wall again.

“Any day now, Kunai.”

She didn’t wait for him to ask a third time.


	3. All Aboard

There were ten of them in the train car. Kunai didn’t know a single one.

She’d seen all of them around the shipyard though. They’d been hard to miss. Each of them bore the mark of an Advanced Asset.

One of them serviced gravity generators. Another was an airframe integrity inspector. Each of them had seen their names posted on the warehouse bulletin board two weeks ago, and breathed a silent sigh of relief.

They’d been the lucky ones. Kunai looked at the other car, which was attached in front of theirs.

Inside, she could see the rest of the workforce, pressed against one another so tight the gaps between individuals was squeezed into oblivion. Dedicating a whole car to the ten lucky survivors meant that the normally cramped conditions became unbearable.

Sometimes when an extra shift was needed or the train was running late, the cars would get stuffed. Foreman would have to push people into the car, and close the door before the mass of compressed bodies spilled out. Kunai would be shoved up against a wall, or trapped between two, three, or ten people. Once the doors were locked and the train started moving, the journey became one of pure agony. She would sweat through her jumpsuit and struggle to breathe in the crushing pressure. The minutes would drag by like hours. The relief she felt when the doors finally opened and the pressure lifted was pure joy.

A worker whose face was pressed up against the door between cars locked her eyes on Kunai, and glared. Kunai looked away and tried not to imagine a world where their positions were reversed.

In the other car, Puck, her only friend in the warehouse, and hundreds of people were packed like meat in a can. And here she was, sitting on a bench, all to herself.

She looked out the window, and watched the city sail by.

 

* * *

* * *

 

Fresh snow covered everything. It was beautiful in the pre-dawn darkness.

But soon it would be shoveled to the side of roads, or piled high near landing pads by robots. Already Kunai could see them going about their work. They marshaled in platoons around automated trucks, then marched down streets, their mission programmed by the Company. She sneered at them. People could do their job just as easily. The knot in her stomach tightened when she thought of the people in the other train car.

As they traveled further into the city, the buildings changed from warehouses and factories to apartments and skyscrapers. Pressing herself against the glass, Kunai tried to see as high up as she could – but it was no use. The skyscrapers penetrated into the clouds, easily a half kilometer up, and kept on going. She had only ever seen the top during the summer, when the skies would break open each morning, until filling up with rain in the evening.  

A light near the train’s door flashed yellow, drawing a quizzical look from Kunai. They couldn’t be slowing down so soon. They weren’t anywhere near the elevator.

But Kunai’s body began to sway as the train screeched to a halt, its long neglected brakes grinding underneath them. Kunai glanced over to the other car, and saw that those workers were just as confused as she was. But while they’d looked resigned to their situation before, now that their agony was being prolonged, they let their pain, fear, and anger show.

A speaker next to the yellow light crackled to life, and a synthetic voice rang out. _“We’re sorry, but there’s been a slight inconvenience. Please remain patient, and the Company will have you off to work shortly.”_ The voice snapped off.

Kunai sighed and slumped down in her seat.

For a moment she let her mind drift. Train delays weren’t uncommon – if anything, they were getting more common. The Company hadn’t bothered to fix the train tracks in years. They were too busy investing in new robot work forces and the infrastructure they needed. Whatever that was. Kunai smirked.

She looked at her co-workers – the lucky ones. Some stood, gripping the train car poles. It’s what they were most use to, after all. Others sat, enjoying the space they had for the first time in their lives. Kunai tried to do the same. She scooted to the middle of her bench and spread her arms wide. Then she kicked her legs out in front of her, and tried to take up as much space as possible. For the first time ever, she could finally get a good stretch in on the train. She smiled, and started to laugh until one of the workers gasped and stepped closer to the window opposite Kunai.

“ _Galaxy_ … look at that,” she said.

Kunai was about to ask what the person was talking about when the train car was bathed in soft orange light that played along the window and walls. Kunai could see it reflected in the faces of the other passengers.

Slowly, Kunai walked toward the window, never looking away from the awed expression of the others. With each step she became aware of a new sound – like rolling thunder. She could hear words – but they came in waves – all mashed together and impossible to tell apart. And the orange light seemed to rise and fall at each crest and trough, like music.

Kunai walked to the window and gasped at what she saw.

Stretched out beneath them, spread across every corner of every street, were people. Hundreds of them marching towards the heart of the city. Some carried signs. Others carried torches – which they’d used to light anything they could find on fire. Cars, dumpsters, robots. Anything that could hold a flame. The light danced off the buildings and streets and the faces of the rioters.

They were a mixed bunch. Some of them wore the jumpsuits of space-based dockworkers, others wore stylized suits and dresses – office drones. Several of them wore large faux fur overcoats, their lacey undergarments appearing with each step – brothel workers. Employed to keep Company executives relaxed and happy. Still others wore the uniforms of metal workers, farmers, welders, builders, shop operators, cleaners, and a hundred other occupations.

A flash further down the street caught Kunai’s attention. Workers at the front of the riot were lighting Molotov cocktails and batteries on fire, then throwing them down the street. The cocktails burst into flame while the batteries detonated with the force of a small bomb. The thunderous explosion shook the glass and walls around them.

Kunai studied the workers throwing the ordnance. They wore improvised armor. Thick plastic strips folded over their bodies, or stolen pressure suits with the helmet sealed shut, to keep tear gas out. To their rear, one of them carried a banner that waved triumphantly in the night. It was too far away for Kunai to see its insignia, but she didn’t need to. She’d seen it plastered on the side of buildings and walls, or tattooed on the skin of the boldest and deadest of workers – a simple white crescent separating two half-formed stars. The banner of the Armistice Alliance.

Kunai shuddered. She’d known enough Armistice members to have learned to steer well clear of them. They were nice enough people. But standing next to one was like standing next to a nuclear fuel rod. Sooner or later, it would get you killed. On a good day they would grumble louder than the average worker, on a bad one, they didn’t have any qualms about inciting open rebellion.

Bad news for anyone who wanted to go to bed with a full stomach.

Or a pulse.

“Oh no,” someone in the train car said with a point of her finger. Kunai followed the gesture towards the far end of the street. Squinting her eyes now, she could see what the person meant, and a wave of sympathy for the rioters washed over her.

Assembling directly in the rioter’s path was a platoon of combat robots – lumbering beasts with steel muscles and outfitted with a dizzying array of weapons. Stun batons, chemical sprays, blinding lasers, net launchers, and cold steel fists. Behind them was a truck armed with a cannon that could shoot freezing water strong enough to knock over anyone unlucky enough to get in its way.

Through the falling snow and ash, Kunai saw a human man – a riot cop – climb aboard the truck and hold something to his mouth. His magnified voice rang through the night.

“ **Company workers! Lay down your weapons, lay down on the ground, and wait to be processed! This is your last warning! Submit now, or your contracts will be canceled, and you will face Discipline**!”

Kunai could feel the woman behind her wince at the riot cop’s last word. Discipline. With a hard D. They’d all faced some of it before. Maybe a revoked ration card. Maybe some time in an isolation cell. Kunai had never gone that far. The worst she’d ever gotten was bread and water for a week. But she still remembered the workers who’d decided they could steal from the Company – just a half kilogram of genuine, vacuum packed sushi, straight from a Union planet. Turns out it was for an Exec. They were strung up and displayed the next day.

A battery sailed into the middle of the robot platoon and detonated. The robots were unmoved, but the riot cop now had his answer. He lowered his helmet, and gave a signal to his mechanical troops. They started marching, lobbing tear gas, firing water cannons, and even blasting lasers straight into worker’s retinas. Not even the Armistice troops, brave as they felt, dared fight back. The mob scattered.

One woman near the robots fell under the wave of the worker retreat. Kunai beat a fist against the glass when she saw workers trample over the woman, sprinting as fast as they could to get away from the inexorable march of the machines. Kunai’s blood boiled. They’d abandoned her.

Broken and bleeding, the woman was easy prey for the robots, one of whom casually scooped her up in its mechanical arms, and passed her backwards towards the waiting police car. She’d be stuffed inside to wait her fate.

Another worker charged at the robots with a pole. His target caught the end of it in its hand, twisted it out of the man’s grasp, and wrapped a set of steel fingers around his neck. The man struggled as he was lifted into the air, beating his fists against the robot’s steel chest. But the robot casually delivered a flick of its wrist, and the man went limp. Kunai looked away from the glass, her hand over her mouth, her stomach threatening to empty itself.

She didn’t need to watch the riot anyway - she already knew how it would end. She’d seen enough of them to know. There was nothing any of them could do against the robots. Nothing at all. They would march over and through the rioters, crashing through their ranks without fear or pity. Once the mob had dispersed, robot detectives, aided by human commanders, would be dispatched to track the rioters to their homes. Then the rioters would be rounded up, questioned, beaten, and finally, Liquidated.

The Company would have to pay for any damages incurred, since it was their flesh and blood property – their Assets - that had wreaked the havoc. But as the damage was likely done to their own property, it all amounted to moving money from one Company department to another. It used to be an issue replacing the workers who’d gotten rounded up. Now when a vacated position had to be filled, a machine would do the job. One less human body to be Upgraded later.

Kunai had had enough of it. She sat on the plastic bench, and waited for the train to start.


	4. Express Elevator - Going Up

Kunai arrived at the space elevator in a daze, the riot still fresh in her mind. None of the workers had said anything during the rest of the trip. Each of them kept to their own bench, and their own thoughts.

But the worst came when they pulled into the space elevator’s train station. As usual, the train came to a grinding halt, and the doors clicked open with a _ding._ For a moment, a sense of perspective washed over Kunai. For the first time in her life, she was stepping off the train without feeling rushed – without a mob of people pushing her to hurry. She stopped only a few steps out the door, and breathed deep. She could relax, if only for a moment. This is what it feels like, she thought. _Freedom._

The taste brought a smile to her lips, but it disappeared when she looked further down the track. Like packaged meat, the other workers were locked in their cars. Those lucky enough to have windows stared at her, their eyes burning with a mix of hatred, envy, and longing. They were desperate to be in her shoes, or at the very least, to breathe fresh air.

When the last of the privileged few were off the train, its doors clicked shut, and the train left. Klein hurried them all along from there. The elevator was about to launch, and new freedom or not, they were going to get on this ride.

Kunai looked up. The elevator was a ribbon of carbon a meter thick, stretching tens of thousands of kilometers into the sky. The elevator car that run up and down its length made the warehouse she lived in look tiny. It would make a dozen of them look tiny.

An omnipresence in their lives. The central point of the city. Its reason for existence. Its lifeblood.

She hated it.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

490 of the worker’s from Kunai’s warehouse were gone. But lucky survivors from warehouses across the city had been pulled in to make sure every seat on the elevator was full.

Their new steel co-workers were along for the ride too. Kunai had ridden up with her legs pressed against a box of robots. She didn’t dare spit on it with Klein only a few seats down, but she did hit it a few times with her knee.

She thought about the workers who’d been replaced. Right now they were probably unloading at a Career Center. The lucky ones would be carted off to a different warehouse and receive new work orders. The others would have their contracts terminated, and be Liquidated. A kind word for what it really was – murder.

They’d be pushed out onto the streets with nothing but the clothes on their backs, and left to fend for themselves. They couldn’t get new jobs, not with the Company owning everything. They couldn’t leave the planet – tickets cost too much, and the Company owned the only port. So they were stuck. The industrious ones, or the ruthless ones, would find jobs on the black market. A handful may end up prostituting themselves, selling their bodies for food, water, and a roof over their heads.   As for the others…

Well… Liquidated was a kind word.

 

* * *

* * *

           

Halcyon Station was built in two elements - both attached to the space elevator.

The lower element was the station itself. Kunai always thought it looked like a giant wagon wheel. It was a metal ring five kilometers in diameter, separated into two sections. The immobile inner half allowed for easy docking and cargo transfer. The mobile outer half spun fast enough to simulate one g of gravity, and contained everything from hotels to restaurants to banks.

Halcyon Station was the planet’s commercial hub, and accommodated more than a hundred ships a day. Company propaganda called it “The Gateway to the Armistice Line.” Kunai knew better. She’d heard what Spacers called the port. Everyone had. But foreman dealt harshly with anyone who didn’t vomit back the Company’s marketing material, so “Gateway to the Armistice Line” it was.

Fifty kilometers above the station was Halcyon Shipyard, and Kunai’s final destination. Kunai had heard that when the station was first built, the Company was expecting it to produce a new ship every week. Now they were lucky to produce a ship a month.

A yellow light flashed.

_“Standby for deceleration – five minutes to Halcyon Uplift Shipyard!”_

Kunai’s stomach gurgled at the thought of deceleration. Six years on the job and she still hadn’t gotten used to the sensation of her stomach flying into her throat.

She burped, and Kunai remembered she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She unzipped one of her breast pockets and pulled out the breakfast bar she’d been issued just before boarding the train. Normally she got them out of a dispenser next to the warehouse’s primary exit. This time she’d just fished them out of a bag Klein had passed around the ten lucky workers.

She ripped the top off the wrapper and started chewing. She didn’t bother tasting it. It was the same breakfast bar she’d been almost every day for six years. An oily concoction of carbs, protein, and vitamin supplements all pressed into a mold. The slight egg taste was an afterthought. She couldn’t remember ever enjoying breakfast. Except when a worker had gotten sick during the elevator ride up and given Kunai her bar.

A red warning light flashed.

_“Standby for deceleration – thirty seconds to Halcyon Uplift Shipyard!”_

Kunai stuffed the wrapper back into her breast pocket and looped a hand around her shoulder harness. Just another day working for the Company.

She wondered how many more times she’d get to ride the elevator before she was Liquidated.

 

* * *

* * *

 

The elevator arrived at the shipyard with a _click._

Most of the workforce and cargo had gotten off at the station below. All that was left of her warehouse’s lucky ten was Kunai. Plus Klein, workers from the other warehouses, and their new robot friends. Kunai sneered at their shipping container. There’d be more robots and fewer humans the next day.

A green light winked above the door, signaling that the elevator car and station had successfully docked. The massive elevator doors parted, and a new workday began. Kunai unclipped from her seat and kicked off towards the door, moving swiftly through the air, smiling softly.

Behind her, Klein was struggling with his harness. She didn’t wait for him.

The shipyard was built for engineers and mechanics. It was never intended for business people or sailors. Consequently it had a very simple layout. The elevator docked at the center of the shipyard. The shipyard itself was an east-west corridor two kilometers long – the Backbone. Packed with cargo holds, machine shops, foundries, and crew quarters, it was an exceptionally simple system dedicated to producing as many new space ships as possible.

For the moment the Backbone was a hive of activity. The previous shift of workers was standing by to board the elevator and rotate back to the planet. Kunai passed them on her way to work. She could see their faces behind their welding masks and pressure suits. They were scared. Most knew that as soon as their feet touched solid earth and every single piece of property the Company had ever issued them was accounted for, they would be Liquidated.

Kunai bowed her head to them – a silent prayer, and a final goodbye.

Once she passed the personnel and cargo waiting to board the elevator, which required navigating a gauntlet of massive pressure doors, Kunai entered the heart of the Backbone, called Central.

Central was assembled in three decks. The bottom was reserved for logistics – moving cargo, equipment, and personnel. The middle deck was for senior foreman and the Yard Master AI. Together, they coordinated all of the worker’s actions. The upper deck was for traffic control and the Harbor Master AI, which directed incoming and outgoing ship traffic. Kunai had only been on the bottom deck, and she liked it that way. Going anywhere else was asking for trouble.

But even on quiet days, it was best to move through Central quickly. Even with all the Upgrades, the bottom deck was still alive with humans. Hot blooded, and itching for a fight.

As she headed for the east corridor, Kunai watched three men out of the corner of her eye. Two were sailors – they’d come here from far away, and they didn’t look happy. The other was a senior foreman – arrogance oozed off him, and he sneered at the two men with cold indifference. Kunai hated him.

They were standing in a corner, and Kunai could see that the sailors were itching for a fight. The senior foreman was waving a tablet in their faces, jabbing at it with his finger. All around Central, scenes like this were playing out. A line of sailors waited to hear about the status of their ships, scowls on every face. A senior foreman trying to quiet an angry captain, keep them from making a scene.

Kunai sped off towards her duty station.

Another day on the job.


	5. Fast Travel

Kunai left Central quickly. Eager to put some distance between herself and the foremen and their problems. She knew Klein would head off to the middle deck. He’d grab a radio, some coffee, and a tablet computer. Then he’d find a seat next to a viewport and micromanage his mechanics from a kilometer away. A dozen other foreman would be doing the same right next to him.

Sometimes she wondered what they talked about.

Evil stuff probably. She smirked.

Kunai rounded a corner and grabbed onto a handrail, smashing to a halt so fast her knees rammed into a wall. She was too stunned to feel the pain.

She floated midair and stared at the pressure door leading to the east wing.

There wasn’t another soul in sight.

No team of workers heading to their station. No shift clocking out for the day. No one rushing to the elevator before it left without them. No one.

Kunai shook her head and kept going.

She should’ve expected this. She _did_ expect this.

Kunai pulled herself through the pressure door. A conveyor belt ran the length of the east wing. She pulled herself alongside the conveyor as fast as she could, then grabbed a handhold. The conveyor yanked her forward, but the acceleration passed quickly.

She sat down on a pallet of equipment bound for the conveyor’s last stop. An uncomfortable chair, but it would do.

Settled, she inhaled deeply, and heaved a tremendous sigh.

More traveling. Alone.

Normally there would be two dozen other workers riding the conveyor with her. Most would peal off into the first few compartments. They were reserved for minor tasks. Basic ship construction. Simple repairs. Unloading cargo from ships too large to dock at Halcyon Station.

Kunai remembered working in these compartments – back when she was new to the Company. Every morning she’d suit up and venture outside to do minor repairs on any ship that came her way. It was dull work. A few turns of her wrench and a spot weld, and she’d be finished. But it kept her fed. And she learned a lot.

She moved on to more complicated tasks. She was transferred further down the Backbone just in time. The Company had decided the jobs done in these first compartments were easy. Too easy. Too easy for a human. Perfect for a robot.

As she passed through the compartments, Kunai saw lots of work being done, and not a single living soul doing it.

Kunai scowled and wished the conveyor would go faster.

           

There were people deeper into the Backbone.

Each time Kunai passed a window, she could see why. Outside the compartments, ships were lining up. Some of them were listing – flying at odd angles relative to the station. Some were vomiting radioactive material. Others had entire panels missing, their guts exposed to space.

These ships were in desperate need of repair – they had to be, if they were stopping at Halcyon Shipyard.

Kunai almost smiled. These weren’t spit and polish jobs. This was serious work. The kind that took knowledge, experience, steady hands, and most important of all, a bit of improvisation. The one thing a robot couldn’t be programmed with.

…Not yet, anyway.

A lump formed in Kunai’s throat. She turned away from the windows.

She glanced down the conveyor belt. A marker passed. They had just entered Compartment 12. Six more to go. She sighed and wished she had someone to talk to. But with a tilt of her head, Kunai remembered that she’d never really talked to anyone on the conveyor anyway.

Not since Cyan left.

Kunai scrunched up her eyes and shook her head. She rapped her temples with her knuckles and tried to think of something different. But it was no use. In her minds eye, she could see Cyan sitting next to her. Her brown hair, tied with a cord of red wire that Kunai had given her last winter. The freckles on her nose. The blue of her eyes. Her pointed chin. And her perfect teeth.

The warmth of her hand in Kunai’s.

Kunai shut her eyes tighter.

The taste of her mouth in Kunai’s.

Kunai groaned and beat her palm against the handrail.

_Cyan. Cyan, Cyan, CyanCyanCyan._

The knot in Kunai’s stomach grew. She struck the handrail harder now, until her palm was numb. But the pit in her stomach only grew. Her foot started tapping itself, and she couldn’t stop it. She shook her head and tried to make the images go away. But it was no use. Cyan just sat beside her, real enough to touch. The ache in her stomach wouldn’t stop growing.

She wanted Cyan by her side again. But with equal desire – like a force she could reach out and touch – she wanted the longing, the desperation, to go away. She wanted to know where Cyan was. To know that she was _safe._

To know why she hadn’t written Kunai in almost _six months!_

Kunai clicked her boots together and looked back down the conveyor belt. They’d just passed compartment seventeen, and it was time to get off.

Grateful for an opportunity to stop thinking about Cyan, Kunai gently lifted herself off the conveyor. She gripped the rail that ran parallel to the conveyor, and slowly brought herself to a halt, directly in front of a large pressure door marked **ADVANCED MECHANICS**.

Kunai opened the door and floated into giant machine shop. All around her was the sound of machines and mechanics. Welding torches sparked, drill bits bored into metal, saws cleaved through sheets of plastic. Noise, and heat and life. She loved it.

Kunai set her magnetic boots on the deck and walked to the far end of the shop, then opened a door marked **POWERPLANT MECHANICS**. She was just closing it shut when she was tackled from behind, a pair of arms wrapping around her neck.

“Kunai!” a woman shouted in her ear.

A grin sprouted on Kunai’s lips. It disappeared when the woman’s grip tightened, and Kunai’s breath caught in her throat. In one smooth action, the woman pulled Kunai backwards so hard her magnetic boots lifted off the deck. Then one hand was planted firmly in her back and she was launched upwards. She was barely able to keep her face from smashing into the ceiling.

“You made it!” her assailant cried from below.

Kunai sighed coolly. With a twist of her hips, she flipped over. Now she had her back to the ceiling, and was staring straight down – into the eyes of Maya.

Kunai’s frustration evaporated and her grin returned. Maya spread her arms towards the ceiling, and Kunai rushed into them so quickly she threatened to send them both crashing to the deck. The two squeezed each other until their faces turned red, and the stares of the other mechanics in the room became too obvious to ignore.

Kunai was the first to let go.

She pulled out of the embrace, but kept one arm on Maya’s shoulder, and the other on her hip. She looked into Maya’s eyes, and could see that she’d been crying.

“Oh, Maya,” Kunai said. She made to rub her thumb under Maya’s eyes, but she swatted Kunai’s hand away.

“It’s okay – I cried all night.” She tried to laugh. Kunai didn’t. Sniffing, she glanced towards the door. “I was supposed to catch the other elevator, but I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Kunai pulled Maya back into the hug.

Then she squeezed her tighter.

“I am so sorry,” Kunai choked into Maya’s shoulder. It was Maya’s turn to let go first. This time they separated completely.

Maya didn’t look at Kunai. She kept her gaze everywhere but her. She shrugged and ran a hand through her curly brown hair. The knot in Kunai’s stomach returned with full force. She could almost taste bile.

Finally, Maya looked at Kunai, her eyes starting to water.

“It’s fine – it’s not my first Upgrade,” she shrugged again, and tried to smile. It looked to Kunai more like a grimace.

Kunai stared at her. It was all she could do.

Her feet magnetically fastened to the deck. Her arms hanging limp at her side. Her jaw slack. Her eyes damp. Her heart pounding in her ears.

No power. No money. Just four gangly limbs, two small hands, a head full of eyeballs and mechanical knowledge.

Nothing she could do.

Kunai had to swallow back her vomit. She balled her fingers into fists, and her nails pressed so hard into her palms they threatened to draw blood. _It’s not my first Upgrade._ It wasn’t any of their first Upgrades.

Kunai glanced over Maya’s shoulder and looked at some of the other mechanics in the room. She recognized most. They’d worked together for years. They came from Warehouses all across the city. But some of them were new. Brought in from elsewhere – to replace anyone who wasn’t performing up to snuff. And in the shadows between them all lurked Cyan.

Kunai shook her head.

“Still…” she said. Her spirit left her as quickly as her words.

Maya tried to crack a smile.

“It’ll be okay… I’m sure it will.” She glanced around the room. Some of the other mechanics were still watching them out of the corners of their eyes. Most had moved on. They’d all seen moments like this play out for years. It was nothing new. _It’s not my first Upgrade._

“The Company is sending me to a Warehouse just below the elevator. They do a lot of cargo handling there. Good place for a Logistics Specialist. That’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

Kunai looked into Maya’s eyes. She could see that Maya knew it wasn’t a good sign. Or a bad sign. She was doomed no matter where she was sent. They all were. Kunai put on the best smile she could muster.

“Definitely.”

Maya smiled back. This time it reached all the way to her eyes. The knot in Kunai’s stomach slackened, but a pang of guilt stabbed through her. Was false hope the right thing? Soon Maya would be shipped off – maybe to just below the elevator, maybe somewhere else. There were rumors of Liquidation facilities where unspeakable things happened. Maybe it would be better to face them with no hope at all. Accept it.

Kunai was about to ask about her other friends when a claxon on the wall came to life.

_“Attention! Attention! Elevator departing in ten minutes!”_

Maya gasped.

“I have to go – if I miss this elevator, they’ll throw me onto the street!”

She lurched forward and hugged Kunai one last time, but it was over before Kunai could get her arms around Maya.

Maya stepped away and looked at Kunai. She laughed.

“Maybe now that you’re rich you can take us all out, huh?”

Kunai swallowed. “Um… sure.”

Maya opened the door and left the compartment, smiling softly.


	6. The Fair Weather

Kunai opened the airlock and stepped into the vacuum of space.

Once she cleared the hatch, she nimbly turned around and closed the airlock door. The indicator light switched from red to green – the airlock was pressurized, and ready for the next mechanic.

She walked onto the gantry just beyond the airlock door, her magnetic boots clanking noiselessly onto the steel deck. She stepped to the side to allow any other mechanics easy access to the hatch, and keyed her microphone.

“Yard Master, DT-20. DT-20 is on station.”

A synthetic voice filled her ears. _“DT-20, Yard Master acknowledges.”_

The line shut off, but Kunai didn’t move. Instead she ran another equipment check. First she checked her spacesuit’s status – holographically projected against the inside of her visor. Everything was sealed, and she had a full eight hours of air. Kunai had double-checked everything before she’d pulled the suit on. She always did. The Company issued their best gear to Advanced Mechanics. But gear failed. She’d seen it happen.

The best policy was to check everything yourself. Twice.

Next she ran a gloved hand over her equipment bag, which was reassuringly clipped to her left thigh. She knew every tool’s place by touch alone. Her welding torch, her flashlight, her laser cutter, her multi-tool. Then she patted her right thigh, and ran a finger over the gas canisters, power packs, nozzles, bits, and hundred other gizmos she used to work everything.

Satisfied that everything was in its rightful place, Kunai heaved a contented sigh and looked out into open space. It was a breathtaking sight that still hadn’t gotten old.

Beneath her stretched all of Halcyon. Most of it was blanketed in a soothing coat of white. But from high up on her perch, she could see blue oceans, yellow deserts, green forests, and even the southern most edge of the northern pole.

Lifting her gaze, she could see the stars.

An infinite canvas. Blues, reds, yellows, whites, all of them winking at her from light year upon light year away. She knew that most of them were totally unknown to mankind. They were so far away it would take a thousand lifetimes to reach them – even with the fastest Jump Drive. But so many of them were ringed by planets teaming with life. Billions of humans living their lives, free to go and explore wherever they wanted.

Kunai sighed. Cyan was out there. Somewhere. Maybe she’d joined up with a Union fleet, and was dressed in a spiffy Navy uniform, keeping an eye on the Hegemony. Maybe she’d found a cozy little machine shop on an undeclared world, and was repairing a humble farmers tractor. Maybe she’d even shacked up with a pirate gang, and was giving the Union and Hegemony both high holy hell.

Kunai slumped onto the gantry’s railing. She felt heavy – a hard thing to do in zero-g. This wasn’t the first time she’d stared off into the dark of space and wondered what Cyan was doing.

 _Whatever it is,_ Kunai mused, _it’s better than this._

From her perch at the top of Halcyon, she could see everything.

But all she’d ever stepped on, all she ever expected to, was right below her.

Her radio came to life, and Klein’s heavy breathing filled her ears.

" _DT-20, SYF-05. Kunai! What the hell took you so long?”_

Kunai stood up from the railing and looked towards Central. She considered flashing the tower with a rude gesture, but knew that Klein was looking at her with a telescope so powerful he could see the grease marks on her nose. He couldn’t hurt her way out here. But he could afford to wait.

“SYF-05, DT-20. There was… a hold up. Equipment issues.”

Klein snorted.

 _“Whatever. Your co-workers,”_ he sneered, _“are at berth 7. They’re already busy. Get going – and check in with the Yard Master when you get there. I’ve got bigger problems than you today.”_ Kunai heard him move to set his radio down, but just when she’d hoped for peace and quiet, he raised it back to his lips. _“And teach them right, understand? We’re not keeping you around just to play babysitter!”_

The line snapped shut.

“Blackhole,” Kunai said into her helmet.

She bent into a small crouch, and with one explosion of energy, leapt off and away from the gantry. She let herself tumble in open space for a brief moment before unfolding the tiny control panel mounted to her chest harness. She cupped her hands on either side of the panel, and hovered her thumbs over two tiny joysticks. With expert precision, she depressed both at the same time, and a jet of gas shot out of the thrusters in her backpack. The force of the ejection brought her to an immediate upright and stable position.

Once again, she was staring out over the world.

But if she didn’t get moving quickly, Klein would blast into her head again.

She gently pressed the right stick and spun around until she was facing down the length of the Backbone. Ships of every size and configuration filled the berths. Mechanics seemed to be everywhere at once, scurrying around the ships using thruster packs, like bees over a flower. Kunai could see arc welders and torches everywhere.

Her prize was a massive freighter. She pressed down on her thruster pack’s controls, and was on her way.

Kunai keyed her radio.

“Yard Master, DT-20 inbound to berth 7. Transmit occupant damage report and repair status. Yard Master.” Kunai released her thruster pack’s controls and coasted along for several seconds. The Company was getting stingier about refilling thruster packs in the middle of the day. She didn’t want to run out before clocking out for her shift. They might withhold dinner.

_"DT-20, Yard Master. Report incoming.”_

A soft _ding_ sounded through the helmet’s speakers, prompting Kunai to gently raise her forearm-mounted display to her face. She clicked through its menus until she found incoming messages and opened the data packet the Yard Master had sent.

The ship was a standard large freighter – Star Express class. Cheap, utilitarian, simple. Not an ounce of flash, and all the style of a punch to the face. Kunai glanced at the ship while she read.

It was built to push cargo, not carry it. The only “ship” part of the ship was the engine and crew compartment at the rear. Cargo was stacked against the ship in vacuum tight containers, then a few thrusters were mounted at strategic points along the length of the stack.

Then the pilot punched in a few commands, lit a match, and off they went.

It was a brutally simple design that was only good for moving as much stuff as possible from point A to B – slowly. It couldn’t enter an atmosphere or unload at a dock. Other, smaller ships had to do that.

Kunai sighed. Star Express ships were boring. There was no better way to put it. But, they paid the bills. She looked back at the repair report. Apparently the ship had a crack in its cooling system. They were dragged to the station by a tug. Expensive. The captain would be upset.

Kunai smirked. She’d end up dealing with that. Galaxy knew Klein wouldn’t.

Thankfully a blown cooling system was a simple repair. She’d let the clowns handle it. Speaking of…

She clicked her radio.

“RT-005, DT-20, report.”

A synthetic voice replied. Cheery, with the strangest accent she’d ever heard. Kunai gritted her teeth.

_“DT-20, RT-005 here. Mornin’ boss!”_

Kunai waited for the robot’s “team leader” to finish its report. She waited. And waited, until the Star Express filled her visor. She angled for the engines and began to decelerate.

“RT-005, status report.”

_“RT-005 is inside the ship at berth 7, boss!”_

Kunai raised an eyebrow.

 “RT-005, report status of repairs.”

" _RT-005 is inside the ship at berth 7, boss!”_

Kunai wished she could pinch her nose. The words were delivered totally matter-of-fact. Like they were the most obvious thing in the world.

“RT-005, designate position.”

_"You got it, boss!”_

A blue chevron appeared inside Kunai’s visor, marking RT-005’s position to be somewhere inside the Star Express’ engine compartment. Kunai raised an eyebrow. The robots were in the right place, so why weren’t they reporting any progress?

Kunai keyed her radio again.

“Yard Master, DT-20. Patch me through to the ship at berth 7.”

_“Acknowledged.”_

The line cut out for a moment while the Yard Master patched Kunai into the ship’s frequency. When the radio clicked back on, Kunai knew she’d connected.

Kunai cleared her throat and adopted the more diplomatic tone she used for customers. Especially angry customers.

“Star Express vessel, this is Drive Train mechanic 20. I’m approaching your ship now. I understand you’re having cooling issues.”

No one answered. Kunai finally arrived at the ship, and landed deftly at its primary thrusters. Her robot team’s beacon was wedged somewhere in the middle of the engine core. Mentally reviewing the Star Express layout, Kunai began moving towards an access hatch that would get her inside.

The line buzzed with activity, and an exhausted voice piped through Kunai’s speakers. She braced herself.

“ _Drive Train mechanic, this is Captain Kassan of the Fair Weather. Thanks for stopping by,”_ Kunai almost smiled. Sarcasm. She could work with that. _“Your robot friends are in our engine compartment. Our mechanic already tried working with them. I expect you’re here to straighten them out?”_

“Yes, sir. And on behalf of Halcyon Uplift, please accept our sincerest - ”

_"Yeah, our mechanic’s back inside now but I’ll send him out to help again.”_

“Roger, DT-20 out.”

_"Kassan, out.”_

Kunai sighed. Then shrugged. That went better than she’d expected.

 

The _Fair Weather’s_ engine compartment was cramped. Kunai barely had enough room to move around. It also wasn’t pressurized – by design. If you kept your engines open to space, they’d be easier to cool, and you didn’t have to worry about them decompressing. Because they were already decompressed. Sure it made maintenance a lot harder. No mechanic likes working in their space suit. But who cared? When was the last time a captain had to repair their own ship.

Kunai shook her head.

She pulled herself past a lattice work of pipes, rounded a corner, and wall of light nearly blinded her. She raised a hand to shield her eyes when the light dimmed and DT-005 opened a channel.

_“Good to see you, boss! How you doing?”_

Kunai lowered her hand. Her robot team was looking at her, their helmet lights now set on a more comfortable brightness. Kunai stared at them. They were an odd bunch.

They looked human enough from the waist up. Stark white body shell, human sized limbs, with a series of intricate fingers on each hand – perfect for using tools already build for humans. They had a roughly human shaped head, but instead of a face it was just a black screen with blue, cutesy little cartoon faces. They would smile, frown, cock an eyebrow. Just enough to communicate. Barely.

They also didn’t have any legs.

They didn’t need them, Kunai had realized. She only used her legs to push off from stuff. It was never a precise movement – not in a bulky space suit. Better to use her backpack thrusters. For a machine, why waste precious coding hours teaching them to jump when they already came with an integrated thruster pack? Or could use their arms just as easily?

Kunai could see the appeal of them. They didn’t eat. They didn’t sleep. They didn’t breathe air. Just plugged them into a power source, make sure their software is updated regularly, and replace the hardware as necessary. You could store them right on the station too – crammed into a locker somewhere.

Cheaper and more disposable than a human could ever be. No wonder the Company loved them.

So Kunai stared. Her robot workforce. Five stark white, blue-faced, leg-less robots. Each designed to replace her. All they lacked was the knowledge.

And it was her job to give it to them.


	7. Busy Work

“I’m sorry, boss. I don’t understand,” DT-005 said.

Kunai sighed. Again. She’d been at it for nearly an hour.

The _Fair Weather’s_ coolant system had sprung more than a leak. More like a gash. Icy shards clung to every surface in the engine department, like it had snowed in space. The fix was simple enough to understand. Carve away the damaged parts, install a patch, check for weak spots, patch them up.

Could not be simpler. The most junior mechanic could figure it out.

_Could not be simpler._

But of course, Kunai quickly realized, simple wasn’t what the company wanted.

“DT-005,” Kunai said, struggling to maintain an even tone, “cut away the damaged sections of the coolant container.”

“I’m sorry, boss. I don’t understand.” The robot’s digital eyebrows sparked upwards and angled down, a sad pantomime of something that was supposed to invoke sympathy.

Kunai wanted to scream.

“ _What_ is so hard about that,” she groaned.

“Protocol says we should replace the entire cooling system,” the robot answered for perhaps the hundredth time. Kunai clenched her fists and her suits air temperature climbed a solid three degrees.

“I _know_ it’s protocol!” she seethed. She grabbed a wrench and thought about cleaving it against the robot’s metal head. She’d be skinned alive, but it might be worth it. She glared at the stupid machine, and its dumb, black and blue face.

“Excellent!” the robot said, its blue mouth turning upwards into a smile.

Kunai inhaled, shut her eyes, and tried to breathe deep. This is why the other mechanic had quit. And then refused to come back out to help her.

“DT-005, the protocol is to replace the entire cooling system. Now, check the shipyard’s inventory, and find a cooling system that’s compatible with a Star Express.”

The robot’s face was replaced by a spinning blue wheel. Kunai tapped her foot inside her boot. The robot’s face reappeared.

“There is no cooling system in the inventory compatible with a Star Express.”

Kunai nodded.

“Gooood… now, when will there be?”

The wheel appeared again.

“Six months.”

“That’s right. So, if there isn’t going to be a replacement cooling system for six months, when will this ship be able to leave port?”

“The ship will leave port when it is fully repaired, up to the Company’s high standards!” the robot said with a wink that Kunai assumed was meant genuinely. She groaned.

“Yes, and that would be in six months, but the crew won’t wait here six months because they have a job and lives and places to be and you _wouldn’t understand any of that would you **you dumb machine.** ”_

She’d muttered the last part too quietly for the robot to hear, but its blue spinning wheel appeared again. It was consulting with Central Processing.

“The replacement part won’t be here for six months. The ship cannot leave for six months.”

And once again, Kunai sighed.

This would require a creative solution. Or she could just do it herself.

But, the robots recorded everything she said and did, and reported straight back to Central. Klein and every other Company stooge would know she wasn’t doing her job. If she wasn’t doing her job, they’d find someone who would.

 _So…_ Kunai wondered, _how do you get this bolt head to repair the ship._

She looked at the coolant container. The ship’s mechanic told her that an electrical error resulted in pumps forcing too much coolant into the unit, over pressurizing it. Then it exploded across a seam.

The machines believed that the only way to repair the container was to replace the entire thing. She couldn’t order them to cut away the damaged sections.

She looked at DT-005, and his stupid face. _No,_ Kunai thought, _not **his** stupid face. **Its** stupid face. _It was a machine, not a person. Plain and simple. A piece of hardware. And dumb as a lump of cold steel. She’d seen them struggle to open a door. They could barely talk when she’d first met them. She’d almost laughed when she’d said “give me a hand” and the stupid thing detached its own arm and… handed it… over…

Something clicked in Kunai’s mind.

She looked at the robot more intensely now.

She studied its cool expression. The simple eyes. And behind them, its simple brain. Like all machines, it was entirely logical. And completely literal. It wouldn’t question anything it was told. Sure it could obey protocol, but it didn’t know _why,_ it only _did._

She stepped towards the coolant tank. She brushed away the layer of frost, then removed a marker from her belt. She depressed the marker’s button against her thigh, then drew a thin red line around the jagged edge of the tank’s rupture. She stowed the marker, looked at DT-005, and pointed at the line she’d drawn.

“Cut though the steel along that line,” she ordered in the sternest voice she could muster.

“You got it, boss.”

Then it moved over to Kunai, pulled out its cutting torch, and got to work.

Kunai looked away when it started cutting. The light from its torch was bright enough to cook her retinas. She marveled at the shadows that danced along the walls while she shook her head in wonder.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mumbled.

The robot was finished in less than a minute.

“All done, boss,” he said, almost proudly.

Kunai then ordered him to weld a steel plate over the clean-cut hole. She didn’t tell it to _repair_ the hole, or _fix_ the hole. Just weld a plate over the hole. And it obeyed. None the wiser.

The rest of the ship took nearly two hours. Each time a repair was necessary, she had to painstakingly walk the robots through each step. At no point did she use the word _repair,_ or anything that would lead them to believe they were violating protocol. The tasks they were working through step by step were disjointed from the greater whole. Just enough to get the job done one bit at a time.

Once the job was finally finished, Kunai asked the _Fair Weather’s_ mechanic to certify the repairs. He enthusiastically signed off, grateful for the quick and quality work. And the low expense. Kunai smiled bitterly at that.

The mechanic signed off on the repairs, and Kunai escorted her robots out of the _Fair Weather_. New work orders were already flowing in. She sighed, redirected her team away from the Backbone, and sped off to the next job.


	8. NSS-41 Albatross

_“DT-20, Yard Master. Proceed to berth 9. Standby to receive starship and verify damage report. DT-20.”_ the Yard Master called in her ear.

Kunai clicked her radio.

“Yard Master, DT-20 acknowledged. Proceeding to berth 9. Will verify. Yard Master.” She clicked her radio off and glanced at her robot workforce.

They were still working diligently on a gas hauler that had blown a tank. Kunai glanced at her display. The Yard Master was handling this one, and predicted the robots would be done in two hours. She sighed. No reason to redirect their efforts.

Disengaging her magnetic boots, she jetted towards the Backbone with a smile. _Besides_ , she thought, _I deserve some time away from the kids._ She chuckled softly inside her helmet, then wondered where she’d heard that line. She didn’t know any mothers. Kunai shrugged and thrusted to berth 9, where her latest job was pulling in.

She approached from the starboard side, and examined the new arrival with a trained eye.

It was a medium freighter. A Skytrain. One of the most elegant ships flying.

Built like a bird, with engines at the ends of long wings and at the tips of its tale. An odd design choice, as there isn’t any need for wings or tales in space. They aren’t even necessary in atmosphere. All you need is thrust. Any ship with a fusion reactor will suffice. Having thrusters at the ends of long wings and tales will improve maneuverability, though. But Skytrain’s are freighters, not dog fighters.

Regardless, Kunai had heard the Union built Skytrains in obscene numbers during the War. They were meant to be sturdy, reliable, and cheap. They were sold off after the war. They were common once. But newer ships had come along that were more efficient. Another decade or two and Skytrains would be relegated to the dustbin of naval history.

A shame, Kunai thought.

Kunai glided over to the berth just in time to see the ship dock. The shipyard’s magnetic guidance system eased her into a mooring frame. A skybridge then connected to a hatch at the ship’s stern. Once the skybridge was secure and the pressures equalized, bulkheads in the ship and the station would open. Representatives would greet each other, and the negotiations would begin. She had to write her report quickly.

Kunai used her thrusters to fly closer to the ship and began her inspection.

It looked like an average Skytrain. A sensor-studded bridge built like an eagle’s head. A small, short-range shuttle concealed just behind the neck. Wide, almost proud wings with oversized, fully articulating engines at the wingtips. A smooth belly, its landing gear and secondary fusion reactor tucked away inside. A back lined with cooling fins. A long tale with engines at either tip. She’d seen a hundred ships just like it this year alone.

Kunai gasped when she got closer.

There were massive scorch marks near the engine nacelles. They’d been run very, very hot. Well above regulations. The leading edges of the wings were pitted and scarred. That drew a quizzical look from Kunai. Its deflector shield would’ve stopped any micro meteors big enough to damage the ship. So either their shield had stopped working ages ago, or the ship had flown through some horrendous weather.

Moving towards the ships spine, Kunai saw more damage. Mismatched colors where new hull plates had been installed. Welding scars from hasty repairs. And there, aft of its small shuttle, was the real damage.

On a Skytrain, the primary reactor rested between its wings “shoulder blades.” This put it directly between the wings and halfway between the neck and tale. A network of cooling fins dumped excess reactor heat into open space. Kunai always liked the look of them. Like the feathers of a majestic bird.

Half of the cooling fins were gone. Ripped away when the panels they were attached to exploded off the ship. The others were bent into monstrous shapes. They’d wilted under tremendous heat.

Kunai was horrified. She’d never seen damage like this before. She activated her mag boots and walked along the Skytrain. Fearing the worst, she peered through one of the ship’s gaping wounds.

The ship’s fusion reactor – its heart and soul – had been gutted.

From sight alone, Kunai could guess what had happened. The Skytrain was fitted with a Drive Train 301 fusion reactor. Old but reliable. The aging reactor had overheated – seriously overheated. Its cooling system had been unable to keep up.

The heat had torched the reactor, blowing out system after system. Kunai pressed a hand against her faceplate in shock. The entire reactor was now exposed to space – a catastrophic failure. It was a miracle that the ship hadn’t gone supernova and been reduced to radioactive ash.

She stuck her head into the compartment to get a more detailed look. She wasn’t sure where to start. Most of the cooling system was gone. Destroyed. Sensory arrays had been reduced to slag. Insulation was burnt to a crisp. At the reactor’s very core was the truly fatal damage. Two of its three redundant magnetic coils, one of the _fundamental_ devices that made fusion reaction possible, had melted.

The third wasn’t much better.

A smile inched onto Kunai’s face. This ship should be history. Bang. Gone. Nothing but dust floating on solar winds. But whatever had crippled this ship hadn’t been enough to get the job done.

The smile grew. She had to give it to the old bird. She was tough. The galaxy had tried to clip her wings. But she’d kept on flying.

The smile disappeared when she noticed the _abysmal_ repair work the ship had received.

Wires hung loose from walls. Welding marks were almost shamefully prominent. Plates and bracers had been bolted on with almost slapdash care. Kunai clicked her helmet light on and scanned through the engine compartment, disgust flowing through her as new details emerged. She ran her hand along one welding scar. It was at least three months old. _This wasn’t a hasty repair,_ she realized. _This was just… awful craftsmanship._

She pulled out her data pad.

The report only listed the damaged magnetic coils. Kunai shook her head. She’d run more thorough diagnostics later, but with a tilt of her head she admitted that the only truly fatal damage she could see now was to the coils. If she couldn’t fix them, the ship was dead in the water. She sighed and confirmed the report as accurate, but recommended that the ship undergo a major overhaul.

She smirked. It wasn’t very often that a ship actually _needed_ an overhaul. Not at this port.

Her radio clicked on.

_“DT-20, SYF-5. Report immediately to berth nine, board the docked ship, rendezvous with SYF-5 and report your findings. DT-20.”_

_“DT-20, solid copy,”_ Kunai said.

Kunai stowed her data pad, deactivated her mag boots, and thrusted her way to berth nine. Galaxy knew why Klein wanted to meet her inside the ship, instead of just send her the work order. But she couldn’t ask, so she didn’t care.

As Kunai passed over the Skytrain’s port side, she gracefully spun around, curious to see the ship’s name.

Instead she saw an insignia – a massive bird, profiled in stark white against the ship’s dark grey skin. It had a long beak, a stubby tale, and long, thin wings. Beneath the bird was the ship’s serial number and name.

**_NSS-41 Albatross_ **


	9. Tender Goodbyes

Kunai re-entered the shipyard through a mechanic’s hatch and removed her helmet. It was impolite to meet customers with her face obscured. She clipped the helmet to her utility belt and headed for berth nine. As she passed the berth’s windows, she could see that the skybridge was attached just to the side of the ship’s cargo ramp, where an airlock was built adjacent to the ship’s cargo bay.

Kunai arrived at berth nine’s hatch, and was relieved to see that its condition light was green. The skybridge was still pressurized. Kunai opened the hatch and floated through. Quickly. Skybridges weren’t much more than sleeves of Kevlar and aluminum attached to steel gantries. They’d failed before – tossing workers and customers alike into the black of space. Kunai had seen it happen. She still saw it sometimes in her sleep.

She didn’t want to stick around.

Kunai approached the _Albatross’_ outer hatch. She pressed gracefully up against it, grabbing onto a handhold to steady herself. With her thick gloves she keyed the hatch controls, _knocking on the front door,_ as Spacers said.          

Then she waited. And waited. She glanced around her now, trying to distract herself by studying the ship’s many scars. But it was no use. She suspected that someone inside was scrutinizing her through a hidden camera. A chill crept up her spine, but she quickly dismissed it. She was safe inside her pressure suit.

She gulped. Except she’d taken her helmet off. She could put it on now. But would that make her look suspicious? What if they thought she was a boarder? They might rip away from the moorings. She’d be blown into space. Then what if her thrusters failed? She’d have no way to get back to the station. She’d fall into the planet’s gravity. They’d never catch her in time.

The control panel winked green, and the hatch gently popped open.

Kunai flung the door wide and climbed inside the airlock as fast as she could. Then she shut the outer door, locked it, flung herself across the airlock, wrested the inner door open, climbed through the moment there was enough room, and entered the _Albatross’_ cargo bay.

She closed the door behind her and held onto its handle, her heart pounding in her ears, and her breath coming in ragged gasps.

She _hated_ skybridges.

Kunai activated her mag boots and stood upright. Her breathing slowed, her heart stopped beating in her ears, and calm flowed through her. Under control, Kunai stepped away from the hatch and examined her surroundings.

She was in the Skytrain’s massive cargo bay. At fifty meters long, twenty wide, and twenty tall, it accounted for most of the ship’s interior. But it was practically empty. There was only a single pallet of cargo – dwarfed by the empty space around it. It sat in the middle of the bay, strapped tightly to the deck plates. Kunai walked closer to it.

She could see medical supplies, crop supplements, emergency rations, and a small fusion reactor. She raised an eyebrow. The ship certainly had an interesting clientele.

She turned away from the cargo and scanned the rest of the ship.

At the stern was the ship’s cargo ramp, which stretched from floor to ceiling. At the opposite end was the bridge, and just to the side of the bridge’s hatch was a short ladder leading to the Skytrain’s small shuttle.

Along the side of the bay were hatches leading to port and starboard sections. On most Skytrains, the port side was reserved for crew quarters, the galley, and offices. The starboard side was for medical suites, machine shops, and additional storage.

A simple layout that had proved effective for more than fifty years.

Kunai heard the tumbling of locks and snapped her attention to the bridge hatch, which was slowly swinging open. Her pulse quickened. Three men floated out. The first man had darker skin than Kunai’s, and wore a floral patterned shirt with brown pants. He kept his dark black hair slicked back, and a long scowl marked his face. The second had darker skin than any Kunai had seen, and wore an expensive flight suit. His head was shaved bare and he wore the same scowl as the first man.

It was the third man who caught Kunai’s attention. He couldn’t have been older than her. He wore a simple pair of coveralls with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing one very muscular arm. And one very obvious prosthetic. Each time the young man moved and flexed, she could see its artificial muscles and steel bones in action.

The young man stopped at a railing, and Kunai looked him in the eyes. He had medium length black hair combed into a wave, soft brown eyes, high cheeks bones, full lips, and a look of bemused curiosity. And Kunai noticed that he was studying her with great interest. She looked away, embarrassed. She’d seen other men look at her like that. They’d all been disappointed.

“You’re the shipyard mechanic?” the man in the floral shirt asked.

Kunai looked at him and nodded.

“I’m supposed to meet with my foreman,” she croaked.

The man in the flight suit stepped forward.

“You any good?”

Kunai was trying to think of a clever response when the port side hatch opened. All of them watched as another man exited it. He was of simple build and appearance. He wore mechanic’s coveralls, and had lashed several gear bags to himself. He glanced at Kunai before turning to the three men at the bridge, with a look of deep discomfort.

“Well…” he began. “I’m off.”

The three men didn’t move.

The new arrival didn’t either.

After several seconds of silence, he cleared his throat.

“Well…”

He let the word hang in the air.

The floral shirted man cocked his head. “Well, what?”

“…Aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

The three men at the bridge looked at one another, then back at the mechanic.

The man in the flight suit scowled.

“Goodbye and good riddance!” he shouted.

The floral man leaned over the railing.

“I hope you choke on your next meal!”

“I hope you burst into flames the next time you take a dump!”

The two looked at their companion – the one with the prosthetic arm. He’d retreated to the far wall. He shook his head. This wasn’t his fight. The three looked back at the mechanic, and the floral man pointed towards the hatch Kunai had just come through.

“Go ruin someone else’s ship!”

The flight suit man nodded in agreement.

“And don’t let the hatch hit your ass on the way out!”

Now the man with the prosthetic bounded away from the wall, grinning from ear to ear.

“’Cause we don’t want ass prints on our hatch!”

The two older men favored the younger with approving looks, but by now the mechanic was already heading for the door. Kunai floated out of his way just in time to avoid being bowled over.

Before he closed the hatch, he called a final “Damn you all,” but was met with another fusillade of boos and jeers. Defeated, he shut the hatch and locked it tight.

Kunai floated back to the center of the hangar and looked at the three men. The floral man pointed towards the starboard hatch.

“Your guy’s in there.”

Kunai followed his finger to the hatch, then back to the men. Each stared at her, but the young man with the prosthetic arms stared most intently of all. She kept her eyes on the floral man.

“Many thanks.”

Then she swung her arms, turned towards the hatch, and with one kick of her foot, was on her way.


	10. Captain Falcout

“I am not paying for this,” a woman said.

Kunai entered the starboard hatch and passed into a hallway with four doors. Two were marked as storage. Another was marked INFIRMARY. The other said ARMORY.

Kunai raised an eyebrow. She knew you stored guns in an armory. _What kind of transport ship needs an entire room of guns?_

Not finding Klein on this level, she slid down the nearby ladder and gently landed on the deck below. The walls were the same gunmetal grey as the rest of the ship, but there was a distinct smell of iron and carbon. She breathed the aroma in deep, and knew that there was a machine shop nearby.

Kunai stepped away from the ladder shaft and into another hallway, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the scene in front of her.

Standing in the hallway were three people locked in an argument. On Kunai’s right, Klein had his back pressed up against a wall, one hand raised in self-defense. In his other hand was a tablet, which he presented before himself, screen out. His face was stretched into tense lines that begged for peace, but Kunai could see that his eyes betrayed near murderous intent.

Farthest from Kunai was one of the largest men she’d ever seen. He towered over Klein, with a thick brown beard and two blue eyes that pierced through the diminutive foreman. His hairy muscular arms were folded in front of him, and a pistol dangled off his belt.

But it was the only other woman in the hallway who caught Kunai’s attention. She was everything Kunai had expected a Spacer to be. Tall, with a back as straight as laser cut steel. She was head and shoulders taller than Kunai, but her very posture seemed to stretch her all the way to the ceiling. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, and her sleeveless shirt easily displayed her muscular arms. On her right bicep she wore a red sash with the outline of a great bird marked in white – not the long, thin bird stenciled on the ship’s hull. This one was dangerous. A predator.

She wore a pair of tall leather boots that extended to her knees, and the largest blaster Kunai had ever seen was strapped to her thigh. Her shirt was built spacer-style, with form fitting synthetic materials and a high collar open at the throat.

Most of all, Kunai couldn’t stop staring at her face. It was all hard edges, with a pointed chin, an angular nose, and two cheeks fit to cut diamonds. Her piercing grey eyes looked to stab straight through Klein, something Kunai couldn’t help but admire. Topping it all off was a head of long jet-black hair tied into a perfect bun.

Kunai was entranced. She’d never seen a woman like this before. She hadn’t even known women like this _existed._

The moment was ruined when Klein opened his dumb mouth.

“Captain, I assure you there’s no alternative…”

The woman, the ship’s captain, took a half step forward. The man beside her tightened his jaw, and Kunai noticed his arms loosen slightly, as if they were preparing to come undone, and undo Klein.

“I am not going to pay one hundred and twenty thousand Notes for a part that I can get in Union territory for a quarter of that.” The woman finished while waving a single perfectly manicured finger in Klein’s face, shock evident in every tiny expression he made. Kunai smirked, though she did her best to hide it.

The captain continued. “You will find a mechanic who can fix my reactor.”

Now it was Klein’s turn to smirk. He didn’t try to hide it.

“Captain Falcout, it’s a DT-301 with a melted magnetic coupling. We don’t have any mechanics who can fix that.” Klein’s voice dripped with smarm. He shrugged. “Even if you can get your reactor spinning – a big _if_ … you could power maybe two of your engines.” He tilted his head, his smirk growing more obvious. “You can’t make it back to Rockport with only two engines.”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“My Jump Drive still works, and I will limp back home on half thrust out of _spite_ if necessary.” She stabbed her fingers against Klein’s chest, pushing him against the wall. Kunai could have sworn the blood drained from his face. “Now find me a mechanic who can fix my reactor, or I will leave this dock and you won’t see one _red cent_ from me.”

Klein’s face hardened. “Captain Falcout, there isn’t a single mechanic _anywhere,_ here or in Union space, who could make those repairs.”

Kunai stepped away from the bulkhead and looked directly at the Captain.

“I can.”

For the first time, she was noticed.

And then, everything seemed to stop. She couldn’t breathe, and the blood stopped pumping in her veins. A feeling started at the bottom of her stomach. It grew quickly, pulling every organ in her body towards it. She glanced at Klein, whose look of shock sent a pang of fear through her.

 _Oh no,_ she thought.

This was it. This was the mistake that would get her spaced – shoved into an airlock and blown out the other end. She’d just spoken out of turn, in front of a customer, a _captain,_ under the watch of her foreman. A bead of sweat formed at her temple, and her knees began to shake.

She was done for.

_What have you done?_

“Excuse me?” The Captain asked, withdrawing her fingers from Klein’s chest. Kunai focused back on her. The woman was arching an immaculate eyebrow, and her crystal clear grey eyes were boring into Kunai.

Kunai swallowed once, and hoped the Captain hadn’t noticed.

“I can… Captain,” she croaked. She could feel Klein staring at her, and out of the corner of his eye she watched his jaw drop slack in shock. But it was the Captain’s eyes who kept her snared. Kunai straightened her back, and put some iron into her voice. She didn’t want to look weak – not now. Not in front of this woman.

“I can do it.”

Composing himself, Klein pushed off the wall. “No you can’t,” he said with barely contained anger. Kunai was certain that if they weren’t around customers, Klein would be beating her bloody.

Klein took a half step toward Kunai, but the Captain raised a hand to stop him dead in his tracks. Kunai’s heart almost fluttered.

"How?” the Captain asked in a level tone.

Kunai swallowed. “The DT-301 has a triple redundant magnetic coupling. Two of the couplings have failed – melted together, actually – and the third has gone into lockdown, so…”

Klein raised his hand and interjected. “So the third coupling can’t be accessed – it is _inoperable._ This kind of failure was never predicted by the designers, Captain, and it is absolutely fatal.”

The Captain ignored him.

“Continue,” she said. She glanced at Klein, then back to Kunai. “It’s alright.”

Gathering her courage, Kunai pressed on.

“So I can remove the two failed systems, bypass a few circuits and route everything to the undamaged third coupling. With a jumpstart from your battery power, I can kick it into a reboot cycle, and get it back online,” she finished. The Captain turned to Klein, the same steely gaze in her eyes when Kunai took another half step forward, arms raised in a panic. “But you can’t run the reactor very hot!”

The Captain arched her eyebrow again.

“How hot?”

Kunai thought about it for a moment. She knew everything there was to know about base model Skytrains, but this ship was anything but. She’d worked with DT-301s all her life. She knew them better than she knew herself.

She chose caution.

“40 percent of total output… of standard Do Not Exceed limits… maybe less. Preferably less.”

The Captain smiled.

“40 percent will do. Do you need any supplies?”

The question hung in the air for a moment before Kunai realized that her proposal, which she was only now realizing she’d submitted, had been accepted. Avoiding Klein’s withering glare, she gave one tentative shake of her head. The Captain nodded back.

“Grim, my first officer, will accompany you,” she said with a small tilt of her head towards the other man in the room. He gave Kunai a warm smile, which she was too frightened to return.

The Captain looked at Klein, who didn’t try to hide his anger.

“I’ll meet you at your office. Draft up the work order.” When Klein refused to budge, Captain Falcout leaned towards him and shook her head. The hallways temperature dropped by half a degree. “This is the only way I’m going to pay you people for anything.”

“Of course, Captain.” Klein left without bothering to look at Kunai. He’d deal with her later, Kunai knew. Her stomach was already knotting.

Having dismissed Klein, the Captain sighed contentedly. She then appraised Kunai one last time and kicked off towards the ladder. Kunai breathed deep when the Captain walked by. Kunai could smell… she wasn’t sure. Something sweet. She liked it.

The Captain was two rungs up the ladder when she stopped, and stuck her head back into the hallway.

“What’s your name, mechanic?”

Praying her voice didn’t falter, she said “Kunai, Captain.”

Captain Falcout smiled. It was the most beautiful thing Kunai had ever seen.

“Many thanks, Kunai.” She started back up the ladder. “Be careful with my ship!”


	11. Well There's Your Problem

            “This is going to take a while, sir,” Kunai said.

            She was standing inside the engine compartment, right beside the DT-301’s reactor. She placed a hand on the core and could feel heat through her glove. A bad sign. The reactor was at minimal power, but without its cooling system, there was a very real threat it could overheat at any time. The reactor’s nuclear fuel could be removed, neutralizing the possibility of an accident, but Captain Falcout had already dismissed the idea. She hadn’t told Kunai why, and Kunai wasn’t going to ask. It wasn’t her place.

            Kunai’s radio clicked. Grim’s gentle laughter came through.

            _“You don’t have to call me ‘sir,’ Kunai. I **work** for a living. The Captain does prefer being called Captain or ma’am, though.” _Kunai smiled. It was refreshing to work with Spacers who didn’t lord over her. And Grim’s pleasant accent made every word seem to roll off the tongue. _“Now how long is ‘a while?’ Hours, days… weeks?”_

Grim was standing outside the engine compartment, shining a handheld light inside to help Kunai see. She couldn’t see his face, but she could feel his worried look. More time making repairs meant more money spent, and more money lost.

            And Kunai could tell that this crew was nervous about what was happening on Halcyon. She suspected so, at any rate. She’d never seen a crew wear guns onboard their own ship before. It didn’t strike her as casual attire, even for Spacers.

            She had to admit though, there were worse fashion accessories than a massive blaster in a leather holster strapped to a shapely thigh…

            Kunai shook her head, suddenly glad Grim couldn’t see the smile growing across her face. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Captain Falcout since they’d parted. Her hair, her cheekbones, her curves, and her muscles most of all. No one on Halcyon had muscles like that. They weren’t fed enough.

            Kunai took her hand off the core and looked around the engine compartment. The damage was extensive to say the least. But if she could just get the reactor working enough to get the _Albatross_ clear of the solar system’s gravity well, then the ship could get to a real port. Then hopefully she’d get the overhaul she so desperately needed.

            “It’ll take me three days to get the reactor running hot enough for you to leave the solar system. You’ll have to prioritize your systems the whole trip.”

            An understatement. She could get the reactor running at 40% total output. That was enough to power the _Albatross’_ four sub-light speed engines, with enough left over to spool up the Jump Drive. And that was all. Virtually nothing else could be powered except for the bare essentials. Minimal life support, a few lights, and the bridge.

            …Maybe. Kunai hoped these Spacers knew that she was kind of relying on mental math. They hadn’t seen her do any actual calculations at least. Even her three day guess came from eyeballing the engine compartment.

            _“Three days is… doable. Any way we can speed that figure up?”_

            Kunai grimaced, and adopted the near saccharin tone she always used when lying to customers.

            “Possible. I’ll have to check with my manager.”

            Kunai paused in the engine compartment. There was a tightness in her chest. She glanced over her shoulder… and realized she felt _bad_ for lying to Grim. Which was ridiculous. Everyone could see through a line like that. It was expected that she’d have a line like that. _“I’ll talk to my manager.”_ As if. What was the point of talking when everyone understood that if they didn’t wave a fat wad of cash in someone’s face, then they were leaving when the mechanic said they were leaving? Likely after a lot of upselling and frequent delays. All of them expensive. People knew the customary reaction to a line like that was to groan, curse corporate run planets and move on with their day.

            Kunai had said that line, and others like it, everyday for near five years.

            This was the first time it had ever bothered her.

            Grim almost laughed. _“Going to chuck their every last resource our way, huh?”_ Kunai could tell he was smiling. And could tell he understood what the deal was. Any radar scan would show a lot more robots than humans, and a whole lot of ships not getting much attention. He continued. _“I’m surprised they gave us a real mechanic at all…”_

Kunai started making her way out of the engine compartment. She’d seen all she needed to.

            “Every ship is checked out by a human mechanic.”

            _“Aye, check out being the operative word. I suspect after that, corporate sends in the clowns, eh?”_

Kunai said nothing.

            _“Robots. What can you do? Even then, standard procedure or not, I’m still a bit surprised. Ship shows up with_ Albatross _on its nose, around these parts that’s not always a welcome thing.”_

“Why’s that?”

            She climbed out of the engine compartment and stepped onto the ship’s deck plates, her magnetic boots binding her to the hull. She walked up to Grim, who had stowed his light. Their faceplates were down to keep the blinding sun from destroying their retinas.

            _“Well… talk to your manager,”_ Grim said.

            Kunai delivered a fake laugh, which got a soft chuckle from Grim. He angled his body so he was looking back into the engine compartment.

            _“So… she’s seen better days, huh?”_

            “Yeah, that’s… one way to put it.” She glanced towards Grim, then down at her microphone. The Company was constantly monitoring their communications – or so they said. But there was always a telltale static note coming through the helmet speakers when a line was tapped. Some mechanics said the static was fake – that it was piped in some of the time, to keep you on your toes. They said the Company was listening _all the time._ Kunai wasn’t so certain. Constant surveillance cost money – a concept the Company was allergic to. She pointed into the engine compartment.

            “You guys don’t see too many mechanics, do you?”

            Grim’s whole spacesuit shook he laughed so hard. _“No, we really don’t. Aye, there’s always a mechanic on board. Well…”_ he lowered his voice conspiratorially. _“They say their mechanics at any rate.”_

“Guess their work isn’t really up to snuff?”

            _“I just mind the ship, Kunai – do what the Captain tells me.”_ He nudged her in the arm, and Kunai sprouted a grin. She’d never talked with a customer like this before. _“But if a mechanic can be judged by how often their ship breaks… well, I think we’ve mostly had a lot of warm bodies.”_

Kunai laughed, and Grim put a finger up against his visor.

            _“But don’t tell the Captain I said that, yeah? She might not like it.”_

A burst of static came over the radio. _“I **don’t** like it, Mr. Grimson,” _Captain Falcout said. Kunai’s veins turned to ice. Twice now she’d said something to upset a superior. She could see Captain Falcout going back to Klein now and requesting a new mechanic. She’d be beaten twice as hard now, maybe have her new Rating revoked… and she’d never be able to see the Captain again. Her stomach started knotting in fear when Grim cleared his throat.

            _“You listening in, Captain? You hear our mechanic’s assessment?”_

Kunai’s heart almost stopped, and her ears perked up.

            _“I did. Is three days the best you can do, Kunai?”_

She swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

            _“Fine. You’ve got access to our tools and machine shop. Allison can help you with the engines, if you need it. You may want to handle any engine work yourself, if possible…”_ Grim chuckled softly. _“I’m handing you off to my pilot now. He’ll help manage the ship from the inside while you handle the outside. And if you’re finished out there, Grim, I need you back inside.”_

            _“Yes, ma’am.”_

Grim clapped Kunai on the shoulder again and headed towards the bow of the ship, and the hatch located just below the ship’s nose.

            _“Have fun, Kunai. Call us if you need us.”_

Kunai gave him a gentle wave and turned back to the engine compartment.

            The line to the bridge opened up again, and heavy breathing came through. _“Hey, mechanic?”_ Kunai arched her eyebrow. She could hear raised, angry voices in the background. _“Sorry, Koon-eh… koon- **eye**... I’m Burke. I’ve got the reactor specs pulled up. You ready to get started?”_

            “Kunai here. Ready.”

            _“Cool. I’ve got the core on the lowest setting possible, and I’ve isolated the reactor. So long as you don’t remove the nuclear fuel rods, nothing you do should effect the rest of the ship. Just don’t… blow up the ship, or anything.”_

Kunai smirked.

            She climbed back inside the engine compartment, pulled out her cutting torch, and got to work.


End file.
